I'm sorry this is a bit late. I kept feeling dissatisfied and re-writing. It felt too passive. Finally, as I lay in bed waiting for sleep, I realized a solution. I started on it first thing this morning. This is the result.

The Angel of Chicago

Part Seventeen: Probative Action

by

Rodford Edmiston

The Chief of Psychiatrics caught up with Aaron in the staff breakroom of the clinic. He had planned to ask the empowered man to his office, but as soon as they saw him enter the other two people in the room quickly left. Deciding to take advantage of the opportunity, he moved directly to where Aaron was making coffee.

"You are pushing her irresponsibly hard!" said Dr. Raitken, his voice almost a hiss.

"I know that," said Aaron, quietly, moving in close. "Doctor, there are literally lives at stake. Besides, I believe keeping her out of this instead of letting her participate would put more strain on her."

"You're probably right," said Raitken, with a sigh, deflating a bit. "I just... There may be short term benefits to her involvement, but I fear there will be long term costs."

"If we're successful we should have time to deal with the long term," said Aaron, tone unconsciously ominous. "If we're not, well, we may not have a long term."

* * *

"We actually have allies among those assigned to protect the President," said Aaron. He, Melody, Arielle, Blackpool and several others were all meeting in his living room. Melody still looked - and occasionally sounded - fragile despite her show of determination, but there was no convincing her to rest. "They don't like Dundee's influence over him. That includes many Secret Service personnel. Some of whom have known Blackpool and others from the Empowered Matters Agency longer than they have known President Sandusky."

"So the Agency still hasn't told anyone outside that they're after Blackpool?" said CornFed. Deliberately contradicting her stereotypical code name, dress, demeanor and accent, she was arguably the best social analyst among those present.

"They have let it be known through my contacts that all is forgiven and to come in from the cold," said Blackpool, dryly. "I have learned through other channels that the Director is furious at one of his Assistant Directors and several staff members for their actions in this and related matters and that criminal charges are being pursued against some of them. Those investigations also addressing the disappearance and presumed murder of my supervisor."

"The bureaucracy is reacting faster than I expected," said Multi, who was synchronizing the brains in his several bodies to focus on this meeting. "More surprisingly, for the most part it is reacting appropriately."

"So how do we get in to see the President?" said Arielle.

"You don't," said Aaron. "None of us do. We need someone familiar with these events who is not empowered, who can make a good case in a short time."

"Me," said Melody, nodding.

"Perhaps. I would prefer someone not directly involved."

"You mean someone who hasn't recently been tortured by people connected to the conspiracy," said Melody, dryly. "Wouldn't that make my presentation more striking?"

"Such a strongly emotional appeal might backfire," said CornFed, head cocked slightly to one side. "Depending on the Sandusky's mood it could come off as hysterical and/or forced. Like a dramatic performance, rather than as sincere."

"So..." said Melody, not happy with that solution but willing to go along with it, "we need to find someone he knows and trusts who either is already informed about the situation and is sympathetic, or who is willing to learn about it, and have them present our case to Sandusky."

Names were suggested, with most being quickly rejected. At first Melody was in the thick of it, but she soon sat back and just listened.

"You all right?" said Arielle, quietly.

"Mostly," said Melody. She smiled tiredly and patted her love's hand. "Just... want to listen for a while."

The others talked. They argued. They paced. They ate refreshments provided by volunteers from Haven. While several potentially good candidates were proposed, Melody didn't hear the one she thought would be the best. Finally, she stood. Conversation faded as the other participants looked at her, puzzled.

"Vice President Duff," said Melody.

There was a stunned silence.

"He's anti-empowered!" said CornFed, hotly.

"No, he's not. I interviewed him a few months ago and he was irritated at how the press keeps misrepresenting his position. He's pro-civil rights in general. He just doesn't want the empowered to have any precedence due to their abilities. Oh, and the syndicate wouldn't accept my piece on him, so he has a point about the press."

She sat.

There was muted but intense discussion of this suggestion for a bit. Some liked the idea, some didn't. Melody thought it was time for the kicker. She glanced at Blackpool, and thought she saw just a hint of amusement through that infernal mask of his. She spoke up.

"Also, Blackpool saved his son's life about five years ago. Not long after they both started with their respective federal agencies."

"That's right," said Pseudo, nodding as he recalled this. "George Duff works for the Marshall's Service. Used to be a field agent, but focuses on legal matters these days."

A plan was quickly formed. Blackpool - on his own - and Melody - taken there by Malak after the empowered agent paved the way - would meet with the Vice President. He was currently on vacation at his family's ranch in Wyoming. Timing which those in this room now realized might have been used by the conspirators. "Paving the way" meant Blackpool making phone calls, the first one to George Duff.

"I hate cashing in favors," said Blackpool, as he waited for his call to the Marshall's Service to be transferred. "Especially for saving someone's life. However, given... Hello, George. I was just telling someone that I hated cashing in favors, but I need a big one from you."

* * *

"It's always who you know," said Melody, pacing nervously outside the rear entrance to the White House that night.

"Of course," said Malak, over the tiny radio in her left ear.

He was flying high cover. Other empowered were in the area, but surprisingly few, and they were keeping out of sight. They didn't want to alert the conspirators to their presence, or alarm those members of the White House who might not be on their side. There on the ground, waiting for clearance, were Vice President James Duff, Melody and Arielle. Only he would be allowed onto the White House grounds.

The plan involved a covert path to the President's study, where he was currently sitting with the lights off, as was his custom when he had deep thoughts to consider. This path was intended to avoid those on the staff allied with the Chief of Staff. With luck, Duff would be able to convince the President to at least consider further evidence.

As they waited, Melody considered the Vice President. He was nearly fifteen years younger than Sandusky, but already middle-aged. He was a country lawyer, and much was made of the similarities between him and Abraham Lincoln. There was even a physical resemblance. Unfortunately, he also had the same tendency to be misrepresented by his opponents, and even some of his allies.

The Veep was, of course, known to those guarding the President. However, they still carefully verified his identity. Then two of the Secret Service agents escorted him through the gate. The rest pointedly blocked Arielle's and Melody's way.

"Now we wait," said Melody, with a sigh.

She thought about engaging the Secret Service agents in conversation, but one look at their stern faces made her decide that could wait. Maybe a long time.

Arielle leaned in to Melody's ear.

"Do we have to wait here? They make me nervous."

"Well, yeah," said Melody, smirking. "Part of their training."

She sighed, and looked wistfully up at the White House.

"Wouldn't you love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation? They're making history!"

* * *

The Secret Service agent at the door to the study greeted Duff and the other agents as the trio approached.

"The Vice President, to see the President," said one of the escorts.

The man nodded, turned and nocked.

"Mr. Sandusky? You have a visitor."

There was no response. He repeated his actions and got the same result.

"Sorry, Joseph," said Duff, reaching past him. "This is important."

Inside, the only light was what came in through the curtains. Duff knew the way. He immediately realized this was something much deeper than the President's usual deep funk when faced with difficult matters.

"Theo, we need to talk."

There was no response. He had a sudden pang of concern that the old man might actually be dead. Duff quickly moved closer and turned on the reading lamp beside the chair. He was startled to see that the President had been crying. There was a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. Slowly, the man looked up at him with haunted eyes.

"They have her, George."

He held up the piece of paper.

Duff read it, aghast.

"I was going to fire Dundee. Hold a press conference and everything. I wrote the speech, had it typed, and when it was delivered that was on top."

"Have you verified..."

"She was supposed to be visiting her sister. She never arrived."

"I'll handle this, Theo," said Duff, voice tight with rage.

Those who had brought him here had given him a small radio set to the same frequency their ear bugs used. He reached into his pocket as he hurried to the door.

Those outside the study were startled when the Vice President yanked the door open. He was obviously furious.

"You need to hear this, too."

* * *

More time passed. Arielle paced up and down the sidewalk while Melody stood at the entrance, occasionally looking at her watch and sighing.

They both jumped at a sudden voice in their left ears.

"We have a serious problem," said Duff, over his com. "President Sandusky has no trouble believing me about Dundee. Because they have kidnapped Delores, the President's wife, while she was traveling to her sister's. The Chief of Staff and his partners are using her to blackmail him into silence."

"We're on it," said Malak.

"On it," said Blackpool.

"Shit," said Melody.

From the expressions on the Secret Service men at the gate, they had just received the same information.

"Bastards," muttered one of them.

The others nodded.

"Tell you what," said one of them, to Arielle and Melody, "given this information, if I see Dundee or any of his cronies, I'm willing to go ahead and arrest them. I've had enough of those pricks."

The other men and women in black nodded at that.

* * *

"Is there any chance she's one of those already rescued?" said Melody, after another half hour.

"I imagine they'll check them first," said Arielle. "Some of the people the various groups rescued were still being identified, last I heard. Some had been so heavily drugged they were still out, and none had any ID on them. If she's not with them, maybe Blackpool will know some more places to look."

"I'm not feeling hopeful," said Melody.

They both looked around at a sudden if subtle change in the attitudes of the Secret Service personnel. Several actually put their hands to their ears. Their coms were not a subtle as those Melody and Arielle were wearing, but they were still effective. Several of the men and women now looked relieved. A few actually smiled.

The senior agent on the scene approached them.

"They found her. The President just got a call, and Mrs. Sandusky actually spoke to him briefly. She's had a hard time - especially for someone her age - but she's safe and will be coming home soon."

Melody and Arielle hugged each other and bounced around in an joint dance of triumph.

"I can't believe it was this easy!" said the empowered woman.

Melody was about to chide her for thinking this was over when Arielle suddenly tensed. Then she spun around, so hard Melody was actually hurt a bit by the sudden move. There was a thump and a gasp from the taller woman... and she slumped.

"Sniper!" yelled one of the Secret Service men.

Two of them pulled Melody to safety, actually dragging her through the gate and down. She, in turn, would not release Arielle, so they wound up getting pulled into cover together. The agents who protecting the two visitors quickly set to work.

"No respiration," said one, checking at Arielle's throat. "No pulse."

As Melody watched, stunned, the two men began CPR. She suddenly realized she needed to call for help.

"Aaron? Anyone? Can you hear me? Arielle is down, shot. The Secret Service say there's a sniper on the roof of the Hay-Adams Hotel. Can you hear me?! She needs help!"

"Melody!" said CornFed. "Listen, they're out of range. Just... hang on until we can get someone there who can heal!"